


Sleeping With Ghosts

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 21yo noctis and 33yo ignis, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Discovery, alternate ending to a previous work, friends to lovers back to friends to lovers again, in fact everyone is, noctis has amnesia, sorry noctis, survivor's guilt, the other bros are older too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 09:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10694103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: fate;the development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power.be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way.---It's a funny thing.It's also a cruel thing, sporting a wicked smile and clawed fingers, lashing out towards the eyes and throat.It's not kind. It's not fair.It's bittersweet and unusual, unorthodox as it wicks a smile at the corner of thin lips and changes its mind on a whim. More often than not it ends every road on unsung words of tragedy, where love dies and memories scatter like dust in the wind.Sometimes it's easier. Sometimes it knows what pity is. Sometimes, it thinks a second chance is deserved in the greater scheme of things.But fate isn't real, none of it is.Just happenstance and whimsical ripples in the fabric of our existence.





	Sleeping With Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Last, but least, alternate ending number three to this fic right here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9595778/chapters/21685955  
> Just like with my other ending, it's not a required read if you're not up for it. But, as with anything, it'd be appreciated. :>  
> But I hope you guys enjoy my take on younger Noct and older Iggy! This has been sitting with me a while, and honestly probably gonna be my favored ending, haha.

_fate;_

_the development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power._

_be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way._

\---

It's a funny thing. 

It's also a cruel thing, sporting a wicked smile and clawed fingers, lashing out towards the eyes and throat. 

It's not kind. It's not fair. 

It's bittersweet and unusual, unorthodox as it wicks a smile at the corner of thin lips and changes its mind on a whim. More often than not it ends every road on unsung words of tragedy, where love dies and memories scatter like dust in the wind. 

Sometimes it's easier. Sometimes it knows what pity is. Sometimes, it thinks a second chance is deserved in the greater scheme of things. 

But fate isn't real, none of it is. 

Just happenstance and whimsical ripples in the fabric of our existence. 

\---

It's warm, and sand is flush against his sun-kissed skin. Noctis's lashes flutter, the corner of his mouth twitches, and he's vaguely aware of the sound of something scratching at his side. Something digging in the ground, interrupted by the occasional whine of an indistinct voice, small and insistent. 

Noctis groans, his heavy lids refusing to ease up on his eyes. He's _tired,_ he doesn't want to move, and he just feels heavy. 

He's pretty sure he's dreaming, too, even if the images aren't as pleasant as the warm sun upon his skin. 

He's running, a wide, metallic pathway laced out in front of him. The holes in the catwalk seem to engorge, threatening to swallow him whole. That seems to be the least of his worries, though, as someone's calling out to him, urging him to keep moving. A deep, guttural voice, forlorn and desperate as it echoes in the darkness around him. 

_Run._

And so he does. 

He can hear his labored breathing, the heavy echo of his boots as they collide with the floor. He can feel the tears brimming at his eyes, and he blinks, and he swallows hard. 

He needs to keep going. 

He doesn't know. 

But he needs to go.

He needs to keep going until a flash of ultraviolet swathes him in a blinding light, and he's suddenly jerked awake as a paw smacks his face. 

He grumbles and shifts awkwardly, and the sand spills from his clothes in dry rills as it finds its home back upon the ground. He's covered in the stuff, and he shakes it from the crevices of his beaten trousers as he blinks and looks around at his surroundings. 

Blinding. 

Everything's almost bleach-white until it comes into focus, but Noctis is too preoccupied with sheltering his aching eyes from the sun as he attempts to look around more. 

Slowly, everything comes into view. 

The gentle sound of waves lapping against a shore help register the fact that he's on a beach. Distant voices can be heard, but first and foremost is the soft _wuff_ ing of the small dog before him. 

Greyed and scarred across its snout, it digs anxiously at the sands at his side, its tail wagging back and forth impatiently. Its small, green backpack seems a curious addition against its black fur, and Noctis eyes it with some curiosity as he manages to stumble to his feet. 

He _aches._

Looking down at himself, Noctis notes his skin covered in bruises and scuffs, scratches marred against the flesh and dirtied with blackened blood and sand. He sighs, lifting his shirt to assess the damage. His chest and ribs show the same signs of some sort of scuffle, some sort of accident, but as to what it could have been or meant, he didn't know. 

The only thing to really help him is this dog, he realizes.

It looks up at him with warm eyes, lips drawn back in a smile as it pants underneath the sun's unforgiving rays. Noctis feels like he knows this dog. He feels like he _should_ know this dog, and something itches at the recesses of his mind as he looks the creature over before him. 

Turning on Noctis, it flashes its tail and starts walking away. 

Mildly affronted, Noctis pushes his confusion to the side as he hobbles after the dog, an arm quickly wrapping itself around his middle as he walks. 

“Hey!” he calls out after the dog, winded. 

The dog ignores him. 

Irritated, Noctis starts a steady, limping trot as he catches up with the thing. 

“Hey,” he says again, panting softly as he fights to keep up with its pace. “Do you want me to follow you or something, or what?” 

More silence. 

The dog lifts its nose to the air, working its nostrils as it sniffs at the breeze. Suddenly it turns and nearly trips Noctis over his own two feet, but he manages to stay upright as he follows the dog toward the water. 

It is dazzling, sparkling underneath the sun in golden flecks against the clear, crystalline blue of the waves. It dances and it hurts Noctis's eyes to look at, but his gaze is drawn towards an island in the far distance.

Two peaks arch up against an equally blue, clear sky, dark and jagged and vaguely ominous. The peaks look like wings, and he supposes it is a pretty sight, but the island fills him instead with an insurmountable sense of unease. 

Noctis turns his gaze back to the sand, back to the dog, and continues stubbornly after it. 

They cover the distance from where he'd woken up, at the base of some cliffs, to the oceanfront where varying individuals fuss with this or that. A wooden building built out upon the water looks to be under some sort of repair, the bridge leading out to it looking to be in the same state. 

The people still walk along its length to the building, though, and Noctis can smell something grilling on the breeze. It smells like fish, and his stomach immediately complains at the lack of attention it must have been receiving. 

Noctis pouts and holds his stomach a little self-consciously. The dog is still in front of him, looking over its shoulder at Noctis expectantly. 

“Sorry,” he finds himself grumbling. 

The dog just licks its lips before trotting onward again. Noctis follows dutifully along behind it, looking around at his surroundings. _Galdin Quay,_ a bright, shiny new sign reads, unfamiliar words to his blank mind. Noctis just stares at the sign and rereads its garish letters over and over again. At least he knows where he is. 

When he looks around for the dog, though, it's gone. He blinks, turning in place, attempting to discern where it might have gone. But it is indeed, irrefutably, _gone._

Noctis sighs, irritated. 

He has no clue where he is, and the only thing that's even remotely helping him has just wandered off somewhere else. He's _confused,_ damn it, tired and sore and _hungry,_ and every pair of eyes he tries to make contact with just flicks away. 

He turns in place, his eyes scanning the sea, the beach, the distant road snaking a trail through the cliffs at his north. If no one is going to help him, then he's just going to have to hike it somewhere else. 

...A suggestion his body immediately protests. With another sigh, Noctis flops down onto the nearest bench, groaning as his rear hits splintering wood. He shifts uncomfortably and with a pout, the front of his shirt pinched between two fingers as he attempts to fan himself. Sweats drips from his forehead and runs uncomfortably down his back, and his face feels smothered with grease and oil and, quite frankly, he wants to set himself on fire to be rid of the gross feeling. 

That isn't a logical thing to do, though. Despite his current state, Noctis is way too confused over what the hell has happened to him. He wants to find out why he's like this, and...

And why he can't seem to remember anything. 

He reaches to the farthest edges of his mind for something, _anything,_ but he continues to draw a blank. With pursed lips and clutched fists, Noctis casts a gaze to his surroundings once again. 

Galdin Quay. 

Galdin Quay. 

Gal...din...quay...

He repeats the two words in his mind until they don't even sound like words anymore. Just gibberish, and he's repeating them over and over to himself like some spaced-out, lost and confused individual. He's certainly getting plenty of confused looks now, but he pays them no mind as he works his hands anxiously in his lap, desperately thinking of something to do that'll get him out of there and somewhere more familiar. 

But he's just grasping at straws as he sits there, and his mouth is cotton-dry as he chaws at the side of it. He needs money. He needs to take care of himself, first and foremost, then he can see about leaving. Money is an issue, though, as he pats his pockets and discovers he has nothing. He even turns them inside-out, and the only thing that falls to his disposal is just...more sand. 

Cursing underneath his breath, Noctis looks to a car and considers a life of crime. Its top is down, left alone in the middle of the parking lot. Older in style, colored a heinous orange with garish red racing stripes...a little obvious, but he could manage it, right? No one is watching him, and he's pretty sure he remembers how to drive. 

...Maybe. 

As soon as he stands and starts walking towards it, though, someone's hand claps down against his shoulder. 

“Hey, there, are you uh...are you okay?” comes an incredulous voice, shaking nearly as much as the hand upon Noctis's shoulder. 

Confused, he turns and finds himself face to face with some bright-eyed, pupils-blown kid looking him over like...well, he doesn't know, but it makes him a little uncomfortable. The kid looks _desperate,_ confused, and amazed among many other things. His brown eyes are warm and kind, though, and Noctis's final, ultimate first impression isn't a bad one. 

“No,” he finally answers, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. “I...honestly have no clue where I am, but there was a dog...I'm pretty sure it was my dog, have you seen it? I lost it...” He turns in a circle, and the hand lets him go, but the boy is stepping up beside Noctis and reaching out to hold him steady by the biceps instead. 

“Hey, maybe you should come inside and sit down for a bit. What's your name?” The boy adds a lot of emphasis to the last part of that question, and Noctis finds himself swallowing hard. It feels like he should lie. But he doesn't. 

“Noctis,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “Just...just Noctis.” 

The lack of last name hadn't even hit him until then, and he feels his stomach sink to the very ground at the thought. The boy doesn't seem to care as he just nods eagerly, though, and he starts guiding Noctis along the boardwalk gently. 

“My name's Talcott,” he starts, patting himself on the chest. “And you're in Galdin Quay. Just south of Hammerhead. Any of that ring a bell?” 

It didn't, and Noctis is embarrassed to admit that, but he shakes his head anyway. 

Talcott only nods, guiding Noctis silently the rest of the way to the stilted buildings in the water. The smell of grilling fish intensifies, and the warmer, shaded interior of the building is much kinder on his sore eyes. Talcott guides Noctis to a padded bench at the edge of a lounge, and Noctis gratefully takes a seat upon the cream-colored cushions. 

“Wait here,” Talcott says, offering Noctis a small smile. “I'll bring you back some water. Are you hungry?” 

Noctis nods, rubbing his arms a little self-consciously.

“I'll bring you back something small, then. And uh...a first aid kit, too, if you don't mind me poking at you.” He laughs, a sweet, innocent sound before he nods. “Just sit tight, okay?” 

Noctis only nods as he watches Talcott walk away, and he's left with a strange feeling inside his gut. All of this is weird. Almost a little too weird. Yet it's something he can't quite put words to, one of those things that seems keen on keeping itself at arm's length with the rest of his marbles. 

It's ridiculous. 

But Noctis waits as patiently as he can, his eyes watching the scenery once more. He can hear people talking in the background, soft laughter and hushed words as families and workers mingle together. He can hear the faint din of hammers banging against nails, the faint whir of something being cut and smacked somewhere else. 

It is kind of peaceful, he supposes. Noctis just fiddles with his hands as he shifts in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position that doesn't have leave legs cramping or his lungs hurting. Almost an impossible task, but he manages. 

Sooner rather than later, Talcott is shuffling back to Noctis with an array of items in his arms. He drops them gently by Noctis and laughs again, pushing his hat back to drag his knuckles against his forehead.

“It's a hot one,” he muses, sitting carefully down beside Noctis. “After I clean up some of these scratches, I can buy you a room. You can wash yourself up and all that, and you can...” 

He heaves a sigh, his careful fingers faltering in their careful picking apart of the first-aid kit. “This might sound strange,” he starts, looking to Noctis before his shy eyes flit away again, “but honestly? I'd rather not keep the help you could probably use away from you. Do you want me to call someone you might know?” 

Noctis blinks, and he feels himself deflate a little in defeat. “I...I don't know who that would be, even if I did know anyone,” he mutters, looking down to his lap, where his bruised fingers are wringing themselves out. “It just...I can't seem to remember anything aside from my own name.” 

Talcott nods, and he adopts an expression of sympathy, understanding. “Well, at least I feel less crazy for coming to that assumption on my own,” he laughs, reaching out to gently rub Noctis's shoulder. “I'm glad I found you. This is...a little strange. But I'm glad it was me.” 

Noctis can feel something more in that touch, hear something greater in that voice. It actually hurts him, and it's all he can do to manage a tiny smile. 

“Do I know you...?” 

Talcott hesitates, but he finally closes the distance between them with a soaked cotton swab. “Yes,” he starts, tilting his head to the side as he visibly chews at his lower lip. “But it's a bit more complicated than that. With the way you are now, I'd rather not say, though. It'll probably be a little too much at the moment.” 

He sighs and Noctis swallows hard, but he doesn't push the topic. “Thank you,” he mutters instead, grimacing lightly as the alcohol seeps into cuts that weren't as deep as he originally thought. That's nice, at least. 

“Aside from all of this,” Talcott perks up after a moment, “are you feeling all right...? Nothing feels broken?” Concern plays heavily at his tone, and Noctis shakes his head. 

“I just think I'm pretty bruised and banged up,” he replies, flexing the muscles in his arms slowly. Everything feels tight and pulled all at once, but the meticulous motions of Talcott cleaning his open wounds helps him feel a little better, a little more refreshed. 

“Did you not find Umbra?” Talcott suddenly asks, and Noctis blinks his surprise away. 

“Er, the dog,” he offers, and Noctis parts his lips in an _oh!_

“No,” he says, pulling at the strings he finds at his waistband. “I don't know where it went.” He's a little sullen over the fact, but it isn't the end of the world. 

Talcott just smiles again before leaning back, gesturing for Noctis's other arm. They sit in silence for some time like this, but it's not an uncomfortable silence. Talcott's uneasiness and confusion seem to have melted into excitement and giddiness, and it's clear he's trying not to ask too many questions. 

Noctis wants to ask questions himself, but whenever he tries to think of one, it just feels useless. So he keeps his mouth shut, and so does Talcott. 

But it's not long before another voice fills the void of their silence. 

_”Noctis?”_ it cries out, just as much confusion present in this voice as there had been in Talcott's. Noctis jerks his head in the direction of a young girl running up the stairs that comprised the building's entrance, winded and wild with her brown hair blowing over her face. 

“Six above, that's really-”

She's cut off by Talcott's frantically-waving hand, and she gives him a strange look. “What?” she asks, gesturing to Noctis with a rather affronted expression. “You asked me to come and make sure, and I am _sure_ that's him!”

She shrugs and holds both arms out towards Noctis, like he's her clear-as-day answer. Talcott just withers, managing a soft laugh as he looks to Noctis apologetically. “I didn't tell him you were coming,” he murmurs, bowing his head as he lets Noctis go.

“Oh.” The girl blinks, her amber eyes catching the sunlight and practically blazing as she slides them towards Talcott. “Sorry, I just...is that really you, Noctis?” she asks, leaning her weight on Talcott's shoulders as she leans against him and looks Noctis over hungrily. 

He shrinks underneath her intense gaze, and just awkwardly nods as he rubs at his cheek. “It's really me,” he offers with a shrug, unsure of what else to say. 

The girl just blinks, but before she can open her mouth and say much else, Talcott turns to her with two raised eyebrows. “Noctis is having some memory issues,” he mutters, gesturing idly behind himself. “He doesn't know who we are.” 

“Well shit,” the girl blurts, her eyes going wide with surprise. “Considering the fact that he's just come back from the de-” 

Talcott lunges forward and smothers her with both hands, his voice upped a pitch as his lips adopt a face-splitting grin.

“Ahh! Iris is just happy you came back us,” he says, laughing good-naturedly as he slowly lets Iris go after a beat. “Isn't that right, Iris?” 

She blinks, the gears turning slowly over in her head before something visibly lights up in her eyes. “Oh! Yeah, yeah, it's good to have you back, Noct! Just in case you...forgot, it's me, Iris.” She offers him a small, sad smile, her fingers working at the pocket in her jeans. “Here, I'll go call Gladdy...” 

Talcott nods, and he watches her go before he turns back to Noctis. Noctis can't do much else than offer a shrug, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He's confused, his curiosity piqued at the barely-formed words of Iris's from just a moment ago, but he doesn't say anything. Not yet, anyway. 

“Gladio's a good friend of ours,” Talcott explains, sitting down beside Noctis again and offering him a bottle of water. Noctis takes it quickly, popping the cap before he downs nearly half the bottle. An ache in his stomach is almost immediately present at the action, but he ignores it in favor of finally cherishing the feeling of getting hydrated again. Talcott just chuckles, handing over a packet of crackers for him to nibble on. 

“You're probably gonna get a strong reaction from Gladio. He's a lifelong friend of yours. Happen to remember him?” Talcott looks hopeful, but the look is dashed from his face when Noctis shakes his head. 

“Sorry,” he offers, but Talcott just waves his hand. 

“No, it's fine! Just...we're glad you're here. We'll worry about this other stuff later.” 

Talcott smiles again, and words he's barely containing behind his lips start to spill forward between his teeth. “Do you, uh...remember anything else?” he tries, getting another shake of his head as an answer. Talcott holds back a sigh, but he politely folds his hands in his lap as he turns his entire body towards Noctis. 

“Well,” he starts, “it's...it's probably best to tell you that you've been gone for a year. Just for now, know that you've been gone for a year. Once we get everyone here that I know you're familiar with, we'll explain more, I promise. I know this has to be frustrating.” 

And it kind of is, but Noctis just nods before letting a sigh of his own bleed past his lips. He's lost, and he's confused, but at least it seems like he's in good hands. “I trust you,” he mutters, earning himself a look of immense relief from Talcott. 

“Sit tight here again, okay?” he asks, patting Noctis on the knee as he practically bounces in his seat. “I'm gonna go talk with Iris, and then I'm gonna get you to that room I ordered for you. They have one available, and I booked it for the next couple of nights. You'll probably be here a while to help you get acclimated to everything...” He trails off and starts muttering, and he's walking away before Noctis can protest. 

Does he really have to stay _here?_ It isn't the worse place in the world, but he also just...feels like he needs to be somewhere else. Like there's someone he has to find, some place he has to be to find his answers. Six above, he's itching for answers, too. 

He drags his own nails across his skin, raising welts in their place. The heat is still getting to him, and his stomach continues to feel sick, but he can't pass out again. At the very least, Talcott is finding people for him to talk to. He has to stay awake long enough for that. 

Either way, Talcott is coming around again and urges him to his feet. Together they hobble towards the hotel rooms, and Talcott patiently guides Noctis to his. 

“It's gonna be about an hour before anyone really gets here,” he says, shrugging with an apology following the gesture. “You can do what you want to do, in the meantime...I can wash your clothes while you take a bath or something.” 

Noctis nods in agreement, unable to argue. He feels really, really gross. “That sounds good,” he answers, giving Talcott an expression of gratitude before they both flock to the bathroom. Noctis hands Talcott his own clothes from behind the door, and with some awkward dancing, he manages to lower himself into the tub. 

It's a fancier one, with the clawed legs and sitting in the middle of the floor. The water is as clear as the water outside, and the bubbles immediately fill the room with an aroma of crushed berries and dried florals, all mixed with the scent of something sharp and exotic. It reminds him of something, and it plays at the back of his mind teasingly, but his tired mind can't put two and two together yet. He just slips into the water instead, a deep sigh escaping his lungs as the warm water immediately works at his tense, sore muscles. 

Like this, it's almost impossible to keep his eyes open too. He relaxes back against the porcelain, his neck cushioned against a pillow he's haphazardly stuffed between himself and the tub. Everything seems to be the perfect formula for falling asleep, for taking a small breather from the sudden confusion that has completely engulfed his life, but yet... 

Yet he can't fall asleep. Something deep within him is relentless as it claws at the back of his breastbone, gripping his ribs and squeezing them to the point they feel broken. _He_ feels broken, and it's just so saddening, so frustrating, not knowing why he does. He feels horribly out of place in this tub, in this _life,_ and it all hits him like a truck to the chest, shattering him into a million pieces. 

He suddenly feels awful, and the urge to puke from before returns with a vengeance. 

The toilet is too far away, though, and he's comfortable. So he sinks lower into the water, right up until it's tickling his nose. He feels like he's sitting one inch too far to the right, completely dislocated from himself and reality. 

...He's probably being silly, too. He's pretty beaten up, and he looks himself over again, tracing the streaks against his skin and scrubbing the muck away into the water. Soon his pale skin is all that's left behind, the water considerably murkier than it was before. Aside from the minor lesions and and dark bruising, though, he's fine. 

Or well, he feels physically fine. Mentally, he really doesn't feel as fine. 

He's been gone for a year, apparently. An entire year that he can't recall. 

He doesn't even know how old he is. 

The realization of _that_ settles into his bones and makes him shudder, and he's patting himself like he'll have some sort of answer embedded into his skin if he looks hard enough.

Except the only thing he finds is a curious marking laced across his back. It's not like the bruises, brighter in color, violet and blue and spread out like butterfly's wings against his skin. His scarring upon his back is even lighter in color, and the marked skin is an almost iridescent shade as it glimmers subtly in the light. 

It's most curious indeed, but even looking upon something like this reveals no answers to his hazy mind. He sighs, drags his fingertips along his skin, and he stares at it for a good while as the bags grow heavier underneath his eyes. 

In the end, he manages to doze off for a bit. He's aware of himself as he does, an ear open for any voices calling out to him. He hears none, though, save for the gentle sounds of rippling water and sea birds pressed against the horizon. He can hear music off in the distance, too, and suddenly he wants to be outside again, walking, searching, _looking_ for an answer greater than what he's been given so far. 

He needs to find that dog again, whatever it was and wherever it had gone. That dog holds the answers he needs, and he is sure there is probably something in its little green backpack. 

But the dog had disappeared like a mirage, leaving Noctis behind, as confused and befuddled as he had been when he had first woken up. It's awful, and it's even worse when he realizes he has nothing to put in his hair after his bath. 

The icing on the Bad Day cake, it seems. Noctis sighs as he just clambers out of the tub, quickly toweling himself off before slipping a robe from the back of the bathroom door over his shoulders. He swims in its white, fluffy depths, but it's warm and keeps him nice and covered and secure. 

He sits on one of the hotel beds, curious as to why there's two. It's just gonna be him there, right? There really was no need to order such a large room. It even has a sitting deck outside sliding glass doors, and an entire kitchen set to the side of the room, complete with a living space. It's like a little apartment, and it smells like cinnamon cookies and ulwaat berries. It makes his stomach grumble. 

He holds out on trying to find anything to eat, though. It's the only thing keeping him awake, keeping him _grounded._ He doesn't feel real, and any hint to everyday habits of keeping oneself alive and whole is welcome. He just needs to know he's still alive, and that he hasn't died and passed the gates to some purgatory hell. It's a welcome feeling, and he mixes it with pinching fingers and slaps to his thighs as he looks around the room. 

There's a TV to the end of the other bed, and he switches spots as he moves to grab the remote. The TV flashes to life with a soft click of the buttons, and Noctis is met with some bizarre outline of a news channel. He blinks and watches the screen closely, turning the volume up and reading the scrolling letters at the bottom. 

The woman he sees talks of restoration efforts being made in Leide, and there's some festival to celebrate a one-year anniversary of something. The story is over and a commercial flashes before his eyes before he can barely register what he'd just been looking at, but he lets it go. Like Talcott kept saying, it's probably best to try and not to overwhelm him with too much information at the moment. 

He desperately wants to _know_ the state of things, but he likes to think he's smart, too. He just needs to take everything slow, and learn what he can. And hopefully, his memories will start coming back to him in time. 

Noctis forces himself to relax, and he flops back against the bed with a sigh. Almost immediately a voice is calling out to him, though, and the face of a rather grizzled man appears in the doorway to his room. 

“Noct...?”


End file.
